Give Me A Hand (Or Two)
by KingOfWhispers
Summary: Mabel loves her brother very much. (This isn't always healthy for her.) /oneshot series/
1. Give Me A Hand (Or Two)

_**Now with a translation in Russian by ButaLover. Here is the link, just remove the spaces (and periods in between the beginning part and "net" part):**_ h.t.t.p.s : / / ficbook . n.e.t / readfic / 4750835

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any recognizable works. I am not Alex Hirsch.**

* * *

It started like this.

* * *

 _Mabel was wandering around the crowded train station in confusion. Weren't they supposed to take a bus back to Piedmont?_

 ** _Go find Dipper._**

 _She was suddenly moved by the urge to locate her brother. Mabel had to find him immediately. Something bad was going to happen, and she had to make sure Dipper would be okay._

 ** _Behind you!_**

 _The sweater-adorned girl whirled around, pushing past the hordes of people that seemed to vanish once they were out of her way._

 ** _Eenie._**

 _She ran, shoving people aside carelessly, not noticing how little substance they held as the faceless crowd broke into shards of warped brick and mortar._

 ** _Meenie._**

 _Mabel broke free of the rubble-the rabble-and ran towards the brown-haired boy at the end of the platform, determination and panic slowly being replaced by relief and a strange, unidentifiable dread._

 ** _Miney._**

 _Dipper turned towards her, a soft, awkward smile on his lips, and he tripped slightly, shocked as he—_

 ** _Moe._**

 _-fell backwards onto the tracks. Her heart stopped before pounding so harshly that she couldn't breathe._

 ** _Save him!_**

 _The girl dashed forward, throwing her hand out to help her brother up as the train whistle blared ominously._

 ** _Well._**

 _The twins grasped hands desperately, pulling and yanking and TRYING SO HARD TO—_

 ** _That just won't do._**

 _A train roared out of the soaring archway, plowing into Dipper, taking him away from her. No? She still had him; she was holding his hand in hers, with his little writer's callouses digging slightly into her palm and something warm splattered on her face—_

 ** _Does it hurt?_**

 _Mabel had him; she had his hand._

 ** _It must hurt._**

 _Only his hand, there was blood dripping from the jagged stump where his shoulder should be, where his BODY SHOULD BE—_

 ** _I've heard love does that._**

 _She slowly sank to her knees on the empty train station platform, covered in the wet, warm liquid-warm like the choking feeling in the hollow of her throat-holding the bloody limb to her chest, crying? Laughing? Screaming? Mabel couldn't tell, her eyes were closed, and her ears must be, too._

 ** _Wake up._**

 _The crying girl opened her eyes._

* * *

Mabel jerked up out of her bed and stumbled to the bed across from hers in the attic room.

She slumped onto the previously-sleeping form of her brother with a breathless wail, and Dipper held his shaking sister without saying a word.

It wasn't healthy to avoid talking about it.

But Mabel wasn't the only one had nightmares, and Dipper understood.

* * *

"Love was the most savage monster of all." ~Rick Riordan (The House of Hades)


	2. We Can't (Hold Hands)

**Author's Note: Hey, so I'm moving all of my stuff to AO3 under the same username, and I'll be posting there from now on. Sorry for the delays in posting this.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own any recognizable works. I am not Alex Hirsch.**

* * *

And it continued...

* * *

 _Dipper ran an ink-stained hand through his hair as he walked up the front steps of the Mystery Shack. He opened the door with one hand as he placed his hat on his head with the other—wait, didn't he have Wendy's hat now? Why was he back in Gravity Falls? Mabel and he had moved back to Piedmont over a month ago—_

 ** _Mabel._**

 _No, none of that mattered. He had to go check on Mabel now._

 ** _Hurry._**

 _Dipper rushed through the gift shop, pausing slightly at the sight of the vending machine tipped over on its side, the hidden hinges ripped clean off. There was red staining the side of the doorframe leading into the living room of the main house. Was Great Uncle Ford okay? Did something he was studying get out of the basement?_

 _ **Reality is an illusion...**_

 _No, it wasn't important, and it didn't matter because he had to check on Mabel RIGHT NOW. The brunet rushed into the living room, pausing at the sight of his six-fingered great uncle lying slumped on the floor, blood pooling around his head. He appeared to have been struck in the back of the head with some form of blunt object, and, oh god, he wasn't breathing, why wasn't he BREATHING—_

 ** _The universe is a hologram…_**

 _Dipper's eyes glazed over slightly, and he walked numbly into the hallway, barely wincing as his other great uncle came into view in a similar slumped position, brass knuckle rings gripped in bloodless hands, red staining the hallway and the bottom step of the stairs. The teen couldn't see a wound, so it must have been somewhere on his front. Dipper didn't bother to turn him over as he staggered towards the stairs to the attic. Mabel was up there, and he had to get to her NOW._

 ** _This should be fun._**

 _He tripped his way up the stairs, the icy numbness in his chest giving way to a burning desperation to ensure his sister's safety. The teen didn't see the stairs breaking away behind him into nothingness. Dipper grasped the handle of the door to the room he and Mabel had shared for three months, barely noting its slick surface. The rest of the door was clean, untouched, unbroken, and maybe Mabel was okay—_

 ** _Don't get your hopes up, kid._**

 _The door swung open silently, its well-oiled hinges—aren't they usually creaky?—doing nothing to mask the young boy's hurried footsteps towards the bed layered with patterned sheets and crumpled stickers._

 ** _They might break after they fall._**

 _Hands trembling, Dipper pulled back the top sheet to reveal his twin, fast asleep and unharmed and BREATHING—_

 ** _So, how are you?_**

 _He collapsed against her, sobbing in relief as Mabel stirred and turned to face him; as she placed a hand gently on his back; as she said—_

 ** _"Pine Tree?"_**

 _He froze, lifting his gaze slowly to meet her—no, ITS—eyes, glowing a sickly yellow shade, slit pupils barely visible against the harsh light. She—IT—smiled at him, grin unnaturally wide, hands stained with blood, stained with Great Uncle Ford, stained with Grunkle Stan, stained and HOLDING HIM AND IT WON'T LET GO—_

 ** _"Did you miss me?"_**

 _Dipper jerked away from the vice grip as IT laughed, scrambling to get away from the thing in Mabel's bed, in Mabel's night sweater, in Mabel's BODY—_

 ** _Wake up._**

 _The pale-faced boy fell off the bed with a thump._

* * *

Dipper hit the floor harshly, continuing his mad scramble backward before realizing he was awake. He sat up, shaking like a leaf, and he went to the door of his almost-spartan room, rushing into the hall of their parents' home—the Shack was really more of a home to him and Mabel, but to say that would be bad, right? They loved their parents, of course, but the twins hated being separated in such a stifling way—and dashing through his twin's open door.

He opened his mouth to say something, to wake her, but a sudden fear struck him—what if it wasn't her? What if it was Bill? What if it wasn't just a dream? What if what if what if—

The teen wavered in the doorway, emotionally drained and staring at his sister with wide eyes. He flinched when she rolled over with a groan.

"Dip-dop? What's wrong?" Her voice jolted him out of his trance, and he took a few hesitant steps forward when she looked at him with sleep-filled brown eyes, reaching out for him with both hands. Dipper took hold of her hands, staring intently at her eyes; he couldn't look anywhere else, and he couldn't sit on the bed.

Mabel frowned at him when he resisted her tugs towards the bed and gave him a sleepy glare and questioning look when he wouldn't come closer for a hug.

"I…I can't…I have to…your eyes…" was all Dipper mumbled as an explanation, his grip on her hands tightening to an almost painful degree. She understood what his jumbled words meant and sent a reassuring smile his way.

"That's fine! We can just have a staring contest for a while. Tomorrow's Saturday, so we can sleep in," Mabel soothed, staring intently at his eyes, identical in color to hers but lined with more stress and worry.

The twins stayed awake for the few hours until morning, hardly ever looking away, and, as sunlight came in through the window, Dipper finally crawled into the bed and slipped beneath the colorful quilt. The younger pair of Pines twins tangled their fingers together as they slipped into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

"I know how men in exile feed on dreams of hope." ~Aeschylus (Agamemnon, Trilogy of Oresteia)


	3. I'm Still (Throwing Punches)

It just wouldn't stop...

 _Stan sat up in his hammock when the boat stopped rocking with an abrupt jolt and an ominous creaking sound. "Ford, you good?" he called. No one answered._

 _ **Find him.**_

 _The old man stretched, placing his feet firmly on the still, wooden planks as he stood. Why were his shoes on?_

 ** _Go._**

 _Something was up. He hadn't felt so afraid since that triangular demon threatened to kill-stop, don't think about it. They're fine. Stan crossed to the door leading out to the deck of the ship, pushing it open as he scratched his chin in contemplation with the other. The con artist came to a stop at the realization that a familiar fez was snuggly fixed to his head. Didn't he give it to-_

 ** _A darkness approaches...I'm here. I'm finally here!_**

 _Stan shook off his confusion, the dread welling up within him like a dam about to burst. He couldn't brush off the feeling that he would drown in the aftermath. The former business man shivered at the sight of the still waters around the boat. What caused the jolt that woke him up?_

 ** _I'll give you anything._**

 _He whipped around to face the front of the ship when he heard a dull thud. Stan raced across the deck, drawing out his lucky brass knuckles and slipping them on with the effortless ease of practice. The Pines man peered over the edge of the railing, stopping in shock and dawning horror. He turned away as bile built in the back of his throat._

 ** _The deal is off!_**

 _There were...pieces...floating in the water, brushing up against the side of the boat, surrounded by small ripples of water that were stained red. A leg drifted with jagged bones sticking out, and a torso stretched across the surface, connected only by the ropes of its intestines. He had briefly glimpsed an arm torn at the elbow joint, and Stan stumbled back to the edge because he had to check, he had to know if it was Ford, if it was his brother, his twin, his LIFE-_

 ** _Don't you realize you're destroying your own mind, too?_**

 _-So he stared down and counted; one, two, three, four, five...just five, thank God, it was only five-_

 ** _Oh, even when you're about to die, you Pines twins can't get along._**

 _-But there was a bloody gash in the side of the hand, and something bumped into his foot-wasn't he wearing shoes?-where he stood on the planks. Stan turned his gaze down slowly and stared at the sixth finger. No no no no no NO NO NO NO NO! Not his brother, it couldn't be! The brass knuckles clattered to the deck, falling from his limp fingers and nearly landing on top of his twin's single digit. He fell to his knees and-_

-sat up in his hammock once more. He glanced over in a sweaty, panicked state and met eyes with his twin brother, whole and together and concerned.

They shared a single nod before settling back down in their hammocks, long-accustomed to the easy rock and sway of the boat.

"Strange, I thought, how you can be living your dreams and your nightmares at the very same time." ~Ransom Riggs (Hollow City, Miss Peregrine's Peculiar Children)


End file.
